Encounter
by FireflySummer
Summary: While imprisoned aboard the Hellicarrier, an unexpected visitor calls on Loki. Much to the god's surprise, he's got a few tricks up his sleeves, including a startling amount of insight into Loki's character. Rated T for safety. Cover Lineart drawn by me. Coloring by Pai-Draws on Deviantart.
1. Chapter 1

"I was expecting somebody, but I must say this _is_ a surprise." The words echoed through the room, rebounding off of hard corners of glass and steel. Everything stood centered around a circular cage at the room's center, where a man stood leering from behind the clear prison walls.

Even behind bars, figuratively speaking, Loki bore an imposing figure: tall and pale, black hair and flashing green eyes, decked almost gaudily under layers of green cloth and black leather. Despite cloaking himself in condescension, he stood tensely against the unseen weight of his mind.

In contrast, the figure on the other side of the glass relaxed, almost slouching into the large pockets of his oversized SHIELD standard coat. Golden hair and golden eyes watched while an easy smile pulled at the edges of his lips as the caged god spoke. He said nothing as wariness danced fleetingly in his eyes.

"Has SHIELD truly sunk so low as to send suckling babes to wage their wars?" At this, a sudden fire sprung into the young man's eyes, a pride so achingly familiar that Loki felt something tug inside. He pushed it aside, choosing instead to revel in the feeling of power gained from eliciting this reaction. Only for a moment, for the man—no, boy, pretending to be a man—shifted from his relaxed position and met Loki's eyes squarely.

"Careful not to underestimate me," the young man warned, confidence keeping his voice firm. Loki almost laughed at this boy, so foolish to think he could challenge the God of Lies and stupid enough to feel no fear. But his visitor continued, the irritating firmness holding. "Besides, I'm not really with SHIELD."

"Of course not," Loki nodded, voice almost betraying a hint of curiosity. Almost. "But do enlighten me. I grow weary of this cell and could use some entertainment." The boy let out a mirthless laugh that echoed all around him.

"It's a pleasure, Prince Loki of Asgard. I went through hell just to meet you, and I've got a few questions." He noted the condescending smile on Loki's face that said _I don't have to tell you anything_, but continued without a hitch. "Some people regard you as a god, you know."

"And you do not?" replied Loki. This was already a rather boring game, but he was curious how the boy had infiltrated SHIELD's security. That intelligence alone was worth scoping for, even if he did not need it to accomplish his goals.

"Nah," the boy laughed again, "You don't look a thing like him. Or it."

"It?"

"Yeah. Creepy white guy that guards the gate to all knowledge. You know the one." The last sentence was a challenge. To most people, it would have sounded like the boy spouted nonsense, but not to Loki. The tall, dark man, already tense, stiffened almost imperceptibly. His green eyes, before dulled with the potential boredom of the conversation, sharpened to razors as he regarded his visitor in a new light. The boy only grinned in his infuriating, nonchalant way. "Apparently you do."

"Indeed," Loki conceded, a grin now creeping onto his own face. The boy did not back down from the challenge, his smile never slipping. "This does not do for the grounds of friendly conversation, I'm afraid. You know my name and origin, but I know nothing of you."

"That's valuable information," the boy replied, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his (definitely stolen) SHIELD jacket. "And everything comes at a price."

"Of course. That is the Law of Equivalent Exchange, is it not young alchemist?" The boy's grin broadened, if that were at all possible at this point. "Very well, if you wish the dance with the God of Lies, then let us begin. What is your name, boy?"

"Edward," came the solid reply, "Edward Elric."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I should probably mention that this is the Edward Elric of post-manga (or FMAB). So there are some spoilers there, so beware. You have been warned.**

**This chapter is mostly dialogue, since there's not much action to be had in a conversation/interrogation/debate with one of the debaters in a cell. And it's absolutely ridiculous writing for two people who are loads smarter than me. I do not advise it for it leads to health issues. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers of Fullmetal Alchemist. –sobs-**

"We're even now," Edward noted, "I know your name, and you know mine. So…what else do you want to know?"

"You sound so sure that I desire to know anything at all," Loki replied silkily, the idle words placed to gauge the boy's reaction and place his temperament. From their initial greeting, he had judged the young man proud and confident in a way that rivaled Thor, but lacking the god's unique skills that almost justified said traits. Or so he had thought. Any individual, mortal or otherwise, who opened the Gate deserved at least a second glance.

"Then you wouldn't be playing at all." The young man shrugged away the question, still undeterred by the silver tongue. "So, what do you want to know?"

"About you, of course. Or rather, how you changed from a master alchemist to work at SHIELD." Loki's eyes watched sharply, "And you, no doubt, desire details on my dastardly plots for this world?" Edward shrugged again as though letting Loki's smooth, dangerous words flow off of him and away.

"Not really. I mean, they're going to stop you, no matter what," he said, "Besides, the effort to make them listen isn't really worth it. I'm interested in you, and the world you come from."

"You play a dangerous game for information you could glean from my brother."

"Eh, he didn't really seem the academic. Plus, it would be hard to keep his attention that long." Edward removed a hand from his pocket as he spoke, waving it in front of his face as though shooing away the idea.

"While I agree that that oaf has a thick skull, I doubt that is what you mean," Loki murmured, "In fact, you've alluded to it twice, that you are unable to be heard or seen. At least not without great effort on your part."

"That's about right," Edward agreed, replacing his hand in his pocket. "See, I'm sort of like you. I'm not from around here…and by that I mean, _really_ not from around here."

"And yet, here you are."

"That's sort of my problem," the boy nodded, "I'm here, but I don't think I'm supposed to be. People don't remember me, even if I've spoken to them. They don't notice when I pass by. I'm like a shadow. Even the cameras have a hard time focusing on me. I'll bet that even now, with all of the surveillance they've got on you, nobody's noticed me or our chat."

"So you try to return home?"

"Not really. I mean, I got pulled here without trying, so I guess I'll get back the same route." The boy's nonchalance returned. His flippant, unattached attitude made it difficult to give Loki something to latch onto, to manipulate to his will. But patience remained key, and sooner or later the foolish child would slip up.

"This place you came from…tell me about it."

"Not a chance," Edward replied quickly, "I've said my part, so now it's my turn to ask a question." Loki wondered if the boy realized how naïve he sounded, bargaining with the Liesmith. Even the thought of answering questions so truthfully rubbed his pride the wrong way.

"So, you're from Asgard. A _prince_. Pretty impressive."

"You don't seem impressed."

"Not really, no. I've had my fair share of princes and their rivalries." His grin softened, a memory clearly playing in front of his eyes. "Anyways, you're not really a prince, are you? Or at least not by blood." Loki stiffened, the mellow voice cutting all the deeper because the question came unexpected.

"And how do you know that?"

"Your brother," Edward said, noting how Loki bristled at the mention of the tall, blond man who'd made such a spectacular entrance earlier, "Mentioned something about it earlier. You two don't seem on good terms." Especially since one was trying to save it while the other actively tried to subjugate it.

"You idle away your time on foolish questions," snapped Loki, hating instantly how much he wanted this line of questioning to _stop_. He'd left everything behind to burn in hatred the minute he'd released his grip and fallen into the abyss. So why did he still shrink from this line of questioning? "This world hangs in the balance, and you fritter away your precious words asking irrelevant questions. Or do you care as little as I?"

"Don't play that. You care about this realm, about _everything_ really, quite a lot," scoffed Edward, "And so do I. But like I already told you, nobody else can really hear me. Only you, and probably because of your…magic." The way he said the word implied a clear disbelief. Loki tucked this shred of knowledge away for later.

"So, you intend to do your part by defeating me? With words only, it seems, since you carry no weapon."

"True, I don't do guns," Edward agreed, "But, I don't need to defeat you. The others already have that under control. Or will." The look that crossed the boy's face betrayed no uncertainty, only impatience, as though he could hear the 'heroes' arguing rooms away.

"You have a lot of faith in this government's broken playthings," Loki said, "And confidence in my inevitable downfall. Are you a seer in addition to an alchemist?"

The young man lapsed into contemplative silence. It did not suit him, Loki noted, since he had already displayed the same brashness as Thor. (_Why did he keep comparing him to his not-brother?_) But sadness played out in the golden eyes now, and Loki found himself wondering what heartache could have tempered that pride.

"You've been alive a long time, if the stories are true," Edward spoke at last, the sadness lingering in his voice, "So you've probably noticed that history moves in circles. And I've seen this story before. Right here, right now, I lived through all of it not too long ago."

"So you consider your shallow mortal years enough to gauge one you humans revered as god?" The words came in a mocking sneer that he expected to bait the boy's temper. To his surprise, the sadness in his eyes only deepened.

"No. You remind me of somebody I knew." A haunted sound filled the boy's voice. Was it fear? If so, it was unsatisfactory, since whatever he feared was clearly _not_ Loki. And the fact that anything, especially in his time of triumph, could be feared more than he set his blood to boil. "He was…more than you."

"Knew? Then I suppose you did away with him," spat Loki, "What was he? Some villain drunk on a little power who lusts after greater things? Do not confuse my motivations with those of your pathetic mortal attempts for power. You cannot even begin to understand true power. I am a _god_ and soon my army will come and rain fire upon this world. And you, the unheard voice, will watch them all suffer and die."

The words wound through the air, so smooth and sharp that they could tear through almost any defense. The expression the boy wore went from its mocking sadness to blank. Loki noted that he didn't step away or give any other physical indication of fear, but supposed that this victory was enough for now.

"But that's _exactly_ the problem." His words entered the air, melting their ice and rendering Loki's harmless against the boy. Edward looked upset now. Not angry or disheartened as Loki had hoped, but _annoyed_. The boy had the gall to be _annoyed_. "You plan to subjugate humanity using force, trusting that your army will back you up. But in the end, you've only stolen something and called it power. You're a thief wearing a stolen crown, and it will _always_ slip away."

"And this friend of yours found some alternative path to power?" asked Loki, aware that the conversation was rapidly getting out of his control. He still had little on the boy, no dark secrets to strike with an underhanded knife, while he found his own anger drawn out.

"For a while, yeah. He really was a lot like you, you know. Older than dirt and a silver tongue. A shapeshifter that could make humanity dance like puppets for his own sick pleasure. For hundreds of years he lurked in the shadows, doing the dirty work his Father commanded, spinning lies and watching the people burn." Although the words sounded almost like praise, the disgust in Edward's voice was almost tangible. "But he was more dangerous than you."

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

"You lack conviction."

Well _that_ wasn't what he had been expecting. It sounded so preposterous that Loki wanted to deny it, vehemently. He let out a dark chuckle, inwardly unsure whether he stalled for time to regain his composure or if the claim really humored him.

"Really. What part of _I have an army_ brings my conviction into question?" The boy searched his face for a moment.

"Your eyes."

"Ah." Things clicked into place. The boy thought he was under the influence of the tesseract like the agents that he had taken hostage. It was far more insightful than even his not-brother, who claimed to know him, but incorrect nonetheless. "If you're searching for some sign of possession, you should know that I'm acting of my own free will."

"I wondered about that," Edward admitted, "But that's not what I meant. You're angry. And hurt. You can see it in your eyes."

"And it is hatred that will fuel my war."

"And end it too," Edward snapped back, "Hatred still belongs to the heart, and that's a terrible liability."

"You don't seem one to denounce the merits of the heart," Loki said, condescending amusement creeping into the words as he tried to exploit the boy's hypocrisy.

"I'm not because I don't have to. You've chosen a different path, and your heart will destroy you just like his did him."

"Well then, let's talk about _your_ path, shall we? You are clearly an alchemist, a prodigy no doubt." The conversation slowly began to wind back into Loki's hands as he carefully navigated them away from his own weaknesses, incorrect as the boy was. "I'd say that your heart almost destroyed you as well. You opened the Gate…committed the greatest taboo of alchemy. For whom, and for what price?"

"My mother," the boy replied, his voice dropping almost to a whisper as he offered insight into the past, "And I paid with my leg." He subconsciously shifted in a way that made his lower left leg the best bet for the transaction. "It's automail now." Loki didn't know what automail was, but assumed that it was a prosthetic of sorts.

"But you learned your lesson, it seems. You're clearly not a practicing alchemist," Loki continued. The alchemists he had met over the years all wore their trade like a cloak. "You ran off whimpering like a dog with a tail between its legs." A look of hot anger filled the boy's face, and Loki let his own grin grow wider at the sudden victory. True, this was not the anger of a coward brought to shame, as Loki had expected, but it told its own story.

"Ah, I see. You didn't run. You stayed and fought because even the loss of your leg couldn't stay your pride. Is that why you're here now? You still search for a way to bring her back?" Cruelty dripped from the words. "Or is it for the others you lost along the way? For surely this path you deem so high could not have come without a cost."

"You underestimate me again. I'm not stupid enough to make the same mistake twice." The boy's temper flared, but he kept it masterfully reigned in. "But you're right. My actions had a cost…a terrible cost that I wasn't able to pay."

"You lost someone that day?"

"My little brother." The words welled up tightly in Loki's chest, but it took him a long moment to understand _why_.

For all the contrasts, in that moment Loki could have sworn he saw Thor. He wore the same expression as when his brother (_not-brother, he corrected_) had confronted him only hours before, pleading for him to come home.

"There were two of us who passed through the Gate," Edward continued, the story running like something well worn but repeated not often enough to make him comfortable. "I lost my leg…my little brother lost _everything_." Unchecked guilt appeared in the crease between the boy's eyebrows. He withdrew his right arm from his pocket, looking down at the gloved hand.

"You paid your right arm?" asked Loki, as he observed the motion.

"All I could get back was his soul," Edward affirmed bleakly, "I sealed it to a suit of armor until I could find a way to get the rest of him back."

"A fate worse than death." The condemning words only threw up a smokescreen to the thoughts racing through his mind. Somewhere inside, he felt a grudging respect beginning to form. To pull off such a feat such a young age meant that boy was no doubt a master alchemist, easily rivaling any in all the realms. It was no wonder the boy had not feared to play this game with him. He had played other games in the past, more dangerous and at much higher costs. "Unable to eat, unable to sleep, uncertain even if his soul would reject such a body."

"And all my fault," concluded Edward. He sighed, then straightened, the sadness disappearing rapidly. He strode forward, up to the glass wall that separated them slightly, then took his right hand and rasped on the glass. It echoed not as a metal prosthetic should, but as flesh and blood. It took a moment before Loki caught the meaning.

"Your arm is back," he murmured, "And your little brother…?" Edward nodded, a triumphant smile on his face.

"In the end, I won. In the end, I saw the Truth." He splayed his glove hand so that it rested lightly against the glass. "You talk about true power, but you still don't have a clue. You're actually so far from true power that you're about to get your butt kicked into the next realm by a bunch of egos wearing spandex."

"So in the end, all you wished to tell me was that I was going to lose."

"No, that's just a fact. What I wanted to tell you was this." He locked eyes with Loki, both refusing the flinch away. "Our story, about the older brother who wronged the younger, the prodigy and the one they called a monster…it didn't end in tragedy. Yours doesn't have to either."

Edward straightened suddenly and turned to leave, his footsteps clicking against the metal grating floors. Now that he knew, it was very obvious that the boy's left leg landed harder than the right, now nothing more than the scar of a victorious battle.

"Our conversation has finished."

"For now." Edward turned back to look at him as he reached the door. "You're a busy guy. Somebody's probably coming down here right now, and you don't want them to catch you talking to yourself. They already think you're a nutjob as is." He was almost out the door when Loki stopped him with a last word, wondering if, despite the boy's confidence otherwise, this would be their last meeting. The archer was on his way, after all, and while he may be invisible he was obviously mortal.

"I take it you aren't going to tell me the answer, then."

He received a laugh.

"You wouldn't understand it if I told you. See you around."

With that, the boy disappeared from sight. Since nobody had noticed his appearance, nobody noticed his disappearance either. Not even the red-headed assassin, whose eyes never missed anything, noticed the boy as she passed him on the way to the cell.

**AN: Thank you to those who pointed out my technical difficulties early on in the first chapter. That should teach me not to be writing/posting things at ungodly hours. **

**Thank you to SinoPrisca, The Sin of Justice, LightLessStar, Takai01, ToxicMoss, FiLau, and TheLazyOtakuWithNoTime for your reviews. You're all lovely.**

**And in case you're wondering, the characters from Fullmetal Alchemist that have been alluded to so far are The Truth, Ling, Envy, Father, and Alphonse.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hullo again lovelies. Here's the conclusion to this. Sorry it was so long coming, but life gets hectic. Anyways, this section is written in four parts: just after Loki's conversation with Coulson, as he's watching the destruction of Manhattan (between the encounters with Tony and Thor), after he gets Hulk-smashed into the tower, and leaving Earth with Thor.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel of Fullmetal Alchemist.**

_You lack conviction_.

Twice in the space of a few hours. By _mortals_. He was beginning to wonder if he had the words scrawled on his forehead, and resisted the temptation to return and question human further. The man was close to expiring anyways, and the moment called for a well-timed escape as the floating fortress faced an eminent crash at the hands of his archer.

Loki slipped silently through the shadows, unnoticed while sirens blared and gunshots rang out in a cacophony. All the while he grinned at the chaos that had sprung forth by his hand.

It was glorious.

He did not think of the boy until once again in the company of his own men, safely away on an escape airship. As he watched the helicarrier belch smoke in a desperate attempt to holds its lofty position, his mind wandered back to that earlier conversation. He wondered whether the boy struggled on within the metal behemoth or if he had died in the crossfire. But why did he _care_? The boy had been wrong, after all.

Hadn't he?

~o~o~o~o~o~

Chaos. Overwhelming, consuming chaos. He had seen it begin from the top of the tower. Watched as the sky had torn asunder from the overwhelming power of the cube. Watched as the Chitauri streamed from the hole and descended upon the city. Watched as his not-brother's precious earth crumbled and burned. Watched while the Avengers attempted to assuage the battle, fighting a forest fire with a garden hose.

All the while smiling to hide the feeling of ill-ease that tickled at the back of his mind.

_You lack conviction_.

Three words. Three simple, hideous words. How could they and the mortals who wielded them, bring him to question his resolve, even while the Earth burned?

_Because it's true_, whispered the treacherous part of his brain.

~o~o~o~o~o~

It took him longer than usual to notice the second individual in the room, his mind preoccupied with the blinding pain that pulsed through his body. Once he spotted him, though, it didn't take more than a second to recognize the presence.

_So he survived the helicarrier after all_. Blond hair, singed at the edges. The stolen SHIELD coat ditched to reveal a black tank top while scars and burns, some very new, adorned the revealed skin. And his eyes...why did they look at him like that? Emotion that came so close to pity that it made he felt his temper spark to life.

"Do you still question my conviction?" The words were the first Loki had managed after his beating from the great green beast, but somehow he managed the smooth, conceited tone despite the raw fire in his chest.

No words came in reply.

"Yes." The reply came clipped, anger and pity seething at the edges of the one-word response. Loki would rather have been called a monster again. From high above came a concussive sound that ricocheted through the air. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. The world held its breath. "You've lost."

The boy settled down at the edge of the steps, continuing the watch Loki in his crater. Loki wondered if the boy would look so fearless if he'd seen him uncaged before the fight. But then, that hadn't stopped Stark. The very thought tasted bitter in his mouth.

"You know, for a lot of cultures, the color green symbolizes envy," the boy began, his carefully guarded gaze glancing over Loki's now-battered armor. "It's fitting."

"And what, exactly, do you believe me to be envious of?" This time his words didn't come as smoothly as he'd hoped, interrupted by a burst of pain.

"Humans."

Again, the boy managed to surprise him. Loki was jealous of many things. He'd owned up to that on more than one occasion. But this…_this_ was wholly unexpected. If he hadn't been fighting desperately against the pain, he'd have laughed. As it was, he simply offered a short bark-like sound that could have been interpreted as dark chuckle.

"There is nothing to be envious of."

"But isn't there?" The boy shifted slightly, his eyes wandering towards the shattered windows. "You look down on us, in our pathetic, short lives. But in the end, we won while you can barely life an arm." Loki tried to defy that statement, he really did, but could barely slide his hands away from his chest. It still hurt too much.

"The Avengers—" he began, but was cut short.

"Are a response team," Edward finished, "You took this world by surprise and were beaten by a six-person response team. Can you imagine what would happen if they were ready? Because they _will_ be, next time."

"You had it all. The genius. The tesseract. The army. And you still lost." Edward's voice quieted, ever so slightly. "You never had a chance."

"I take you still will not tell me this Truth," Loki said, "So perhaps you will enlighten me on what the final trade _was_. A life for a life, as the laws dictate, and yet you claim to have won." A long silence followed, and Loki wondered if the boy would answer at all, since he held no obligation. Instead he focused the tattered remains of his magic to rebuild the body that been smashed into Stark's tower floor.

"You were right about one thing," Edward finally spoke up, disturbing his concentration.

"I generally am. About which, might I enquire?"

"I'm not exactly a practicing Alchemist." Edward pushed his hands together, lining the gloved fingers one against the other. Loki knew the motion, although he had seen it but few times in his long life. A circle, made of the body. A preparation for a transmutation. He readied himself, not sure what to expect.

Nothing happened. The air didn't spark to life with the indication of alchemy. Instead, the boy let his hands fall to either side, resting them on the stone steps. The realization came to him, far slower than he'd have liked. It made him want to laugh again, but he didn't want to attempt it for fear of undoing the healing he'd already finished.

"So that's it? Your final solution?" The boy had given up his alchemy. And here he'd thought him brilliant, on par with any of the alchemists in the Realms. A master of his trade.

But no. He'd given it up, thrown away the only gift that set him apart from the rest of his miserable race. That would be like asking Thor to sacrifice mjolnir, and for what?

_His little brother_.

And suddenly, the taunting thoughts came to a halt. He wanted to throw all of the boy's words—his foolishness, his sentiment—back into that confident face. To grind away that self-righteousness grin…to…

_Would Thor do it?_ The sudden, unwanted thought whirled into his head. _Would he give up everything to save his younger brother, the monster, from himself?_

He couldn't bring himself to think of the answer. In this moment the answer, either positive or negative, could potentially destroy the shattered heart he'd managed to piece together. (_Although, not all the pieces are in the right places…_)

"Foolish." He finally managed the single word, gathering together the rest of his scattered thoughts. "To lower yourself. To make yourself _nothing_."

"Thinking that I was _above_ anybody was what got me into trouble in the first place. I'm just human, Loki. Stupid, weak, pathetic, human." The boy somehow managed to wear the derisive words as a badge of honor, something that, for all the glamorous words he spoke, Loki could not do. _Monster_. "And you're not that much different. So much heart. But you tried to leave yours behind, and that's why you lost. Because of _sentiment_." For some reason, the boy looked like he'd just told him the answer. To _everything_. And yet, Loki had never felt so far from the truth. Or the Truth, as the boy said.

The sound of crunching glass and Edward hauled himself to his feet. "They're coming."

"This is farewell, then."

"Maybe." Edward looked down at him again, with those golden, pitying eyes. "It's just chance we met again anyways. I was trying to find the tesseract, since my coming here was linked to that I think."

"So it was a lie? You not trying to get home."

"Half-lie," Edward confirmed, "But I don't really expect you to understand. _Sentiment_ and all." Edward turned and walked beyond his line of vision. He had almost passed out of earshot when he heard the boy's last words. "But then again, maybe you'll surprise me."

~o~o~o~o~o~

They now stood in the center of an expanse of green in the depths of the city he had tried so hard to destroy. It was quite a farewell party, with all the Avengers turning up, plus a few others. They offered him looks ranging from hatred to amusement to pity. If not for the muzzle, he would have told them exactly how he felt about such looks.

_How_? In his forced silence, body still aching from his encounter with the beast, his mind still pounded frantically, scrabbling for an answer. How had he failed to this group? He had tried so hard to destroy them, to use his cunning silver tongue to turn them and let them break each other. And in the end, he'd had an army. And it was not enough.

He watched as Banner, in the company of SHIELD agents prepared the tesseract for their departure. Then, in the company of Thor he allowed himself to be led away from the group, searching desperately solution. He'd lost, he knew, but he wanted to know _how_. Desperately.

Finally, as Thor held the contraption that would take them home out to him, he looked into the eyes of his not-brother. Countless emotions echoed in the man's eyes: resentment, guilt, sadness… It brought back echoes of the earlier conversation, echoes of a question that he could not bear finding the answer for. _Would Thor do it to save his brother?_

Something in his mind clicked.

_True power_. He had taunted Fury with those words without understanding them himself. It had been in front of both of them at the time, but little did either know that the wielder had not been—had _never_ been—Loki, but Fury. Or perhaps the man had known.

_Sentiment_. Could they really be the same? It was a dangerous game, the heart, so easily shattered. But these broken soldiers knew that, and yet they still stood up and fought on in such a way. They had won.

And Loki…he never could have that, could he? Someone else to pick up the splinters of an ice-cold heart. Someone else to rely on, to trust. Someone who trusted you in return. _Sentiment_…_true power…. Perhaps it _was_ impossible all along_. For him, at least. Envious of humanity. How disgustingly fitting.

He reached out and took hold of the device. In an instant, the world melted away. In another, he knew he would return to Asgard. But between the moments, in the space where the whiteness took hold of them as they were thrown across space and time, Loki felt a hand on one of his armored shoulders. With it came a familiar voice, golden even though he could see neither eyes nor face.

"This isn't the end, you know…" _There's still time to change. _He could almost sense the unspoken words, but the voice had faded out for what he knew to be the last time. _There's still time before this story becomes a tragedy. You have heart, after all._

And maybe, just maybe that was the Truth.

**AN: Well, that concludes that. It's been fun! Thank you to xlunatica, The Sin of Justice, FiLau, LittleNK, Jason 123456, and Harryswoman for your kind comments. Not sure if any other pieces will follow (although I am heavily tempted to do a one-shot in which Loki gives Cloud Strife fashion advice…if you don't get what I'm saying, try comparing Loki's ****_Avengers_**** costume against Cloud's ****_Advent Children_****, and you'll see what I'm talking about). **


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